


Rise of the Star Sapphires - Book One: Hal Jordan

by BadGrayson (OtakuLad)



Series: Rise of the Star Sapphires [1]
Category: Carol Ferris - Fandom, Green Lantern (Comics), Jessica jordan - Fandom, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M, Mommy Issues, Mommy Porn, Parent/Child Incest, Porn With Plot, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuLad/pseuds/BadGrayson
Summary: When a lifeless Hal Jordan is pulled from the depths of space by his former lover Carol Ferris, the Star Sapphire of Earth offers him one last act of mercy. To redeem his mortal soul, she’ll need to unravel the dying Green Lantern’s past, to slowly pull apart the forgotten threads of his boyish heart to reveal each and every taboo act he once shared with his own widowed mother, Jessica Jordan.For the price of his love, she offers Hal not only the chance to save his own soul, but the tortured soul of his mother as well.The ‘Rise of the Star Sapphires’ series is an AO3 exclusive!Mature Readers Only!





	1. All's Ferris in Love and War

**Rise of the Star Sapphires  
Book One: Hal Jordan**

 

 **Chapter One:**  
**All’s Ferris in Love and War**

**1**

The sea was oblivion.

Endless, emotionless.

At the unexpected beckoning of a strange tide, the man who’d been set adrift in this infinite void of space felt his body being carried slowly upwards, his essence surrounded by tiny shafts of pretty light, his muscles afraid to twitch less the hungry waters of the twisting Styx pull him back into its dark embrace once more and he’d lose this final thread of consciousness.

That fragile thread, like a child with a fisherman’s line, was being slowly pulled from the miasma of chaos by the light.

Terrible and wondrous memories played out along the edge of reality, incarnations of fractured meaning struggling to piece together broken existence. One small shaft of crimson light turned to shine on the darkened stage of his awareness to reveal forgotten actors from another life, old stories being told by the squatters of memory.

But these were not squatters… These were his allies... His lovers... His friends.

He knew them.

He’d been a man named Hal Jordan, they said. He’d been a Green Lantern, they said. But none of that mattered anymore because this play needed to start at his beginning.

Not his end.

The chattering actors suddenly faded into scarlet dust, gathered and then reformed into a woman. A beautiful woman, with brown hair and lonely eyes beckoning towards Hal as he floated like an unborn child in the endless womb of space, drifting on the stream of recognition towards her open arms.

Open arms spread like a gillnet, arms which would never let him go.

The vision ended, the violent tide carrying Hal back across the icy divide of death like a sledgehammer, each painful breath a new blow cracking the icy surface of its frozen surface until he was alive again.

Alive.

And held like a child in the arms of Carol Ferris, floating in the middle of the galaxy with her soft lips placed upon his feverish forehead in the most powerful kiss he would ever experience, bringing his very soul back from Death’s cold caress until he gasped for air like a fish tossed into outer space.

“ _Shhh_ , my darling… I’m here… I’m here.”

“ _Carol… Oa… The Green Lanterns…_ ”

The painful memories came flooding back, shards of images carried on a tidal wave of pure dread now threatening to pull him back under in its riptide of despair. Oa had been attacked by the Star Sapphires, he remembered it all now. There’d been far too many betrayals, too many Lanterns turned in the traitorous shade of violet lust, too many Guardians lost in madness until the glowing green of the Central Battery was finally extinguished by pink love.

And then Oa had exploded.

Oa had exploded and both Guardians and Green Lanterns had been left powerless in its wake, their powers and rings suddenly useless, overwhelmed by an unconquerable love. His own ring had felt like nothing more than cold alien metal wrapped around his finger, a relic of power which no longer existed.

Strange, he couldn’t even feel his right fingers now.

Like a mother brushing a strand of hair from a waking child’s forehead, Carol removed the signature green mask and casually tossed it into the endless void like a soiled tissue, the tip of her thumb gentle caressing the swollen bruises under Hal’s brown eyes as he realized she was the only thing keeping him alive.

He'd fought with everything he’d had, until the bitter end when Oa had exploded and he’d been left powerless, hurled into space like human shrapnel, frantically forcing every remaining ounce of his will into making the ring work again before the pain had taken away his ability to think.

As his broken body shivered from the recollection, Carol smiled as best as she could, still holding Hal’s ravaged body in her arms while directing his brown-eyed gaze upwards towards her, not wanting her former lover to see that his right leg was missing below the knee and that the ribs on his righthand side were exposed like a bowl of hickory sticks.

She couldn’t keep him alive for long like this… Not like this… But hopefully it would be long enough.

“You must confess your love to me, Hal Jordan.”

“ _I’ll… never… love you._ ”

“You’ll always love me… And I will always love you… Which is why I’m giving you this chance, Hal… To save your soul.”

“ _Carol… Do you… really think… I care… after what… the Sapphires… destroyed?!_ ”

Her smile was almost tender.

“All shall be reunited in love… Which is why you _must_ care… If not for your sake, then for hers.”

“ _Who?_ ”

Carol looked down at him gently, his head cradled tenderly in her arms.

“Your mother, Hal… Jessica Jordan… The one you’ve forgotten.”

That accusation hit him like a gut-punch.

“ _That’s low, Carol… Even for you… I’ll never forget my mother._ ”

“You already have, Hal Jordan… Your cowardice and your guilt have condemned her to blackest night for these past twenty years.”

The last Green Lantern felt something twist in his gut, something he didn’t like. Something that was threatening to tear him apart from the inside out if he dared to acknowledge it.

“ _Jesus Christ, Carol!... My mother was a goddamned saint… Don’t you even…_ ”

“The memories you have of her, Hal… They’re lies… Emerald fantasies of an idealized existence… Stare at them long enough and they’ll crumble to dust… You sacrificed love to become a hero… You must love once more.”

_“You always were… a crazy bitch.”_

But…

Oh Christ…

There _had_ been an incident.

No…

 _Incidents_.

And why was he only remembering them now?

Because he’d blocked it out from his memory, that’s why. Using the ring, he’d willed his mind to create new memories to replace the old. False memories of his mother as a widowed housewife who shouldered her enormous tragedy and soul-crushing loneliness like a cheerful Atlas with fantastic tits, carrying a plate of freshly-baked cookies in one hand and a pitcher of milk in the other.

The smiles, milk and cookies had all been emerald-faced lies.

The tits hadn’t been though.

Shortly after becoming a Green Lantern, Hal Jordan had used his newly acquired power ring to force himself to forget all the shameful moments of weakness they’d shared together, carefully sealing away all those painful, taboo mistakes the boy had made so that the man could begin his life as a Green Lantern.

But his ring couldn’t protect him anymore, could it? The Guardians and their champions were no more, causing Hal Jordan’s stomach to snap like a broken high-wire until he fell through the green safety net of those lies, recalling all the lewd and torrid details of every taboo moment when they were closer to husband and wife than mother and son.

Oh Christ... He’d only been thirteen the first time.

In an opportune moment of weakness and sexual exploration, young Harold Jordan had been caught by Jessica Jordan trying on her lingerie.

Through a revolving tunnel of swirling pink clouds, Hal Jordan’s consciousness was thrown back through the mists of time, embraced in the warmth of youth and carried back to a different time so that he might relive each and every intimate moment of that first encounter.

 

**2**

It was like a dream, but real.

In this dream, Hal was a hormonal thirteen-year-old boy in his mother’s old bedroom again, once more nervously sorting through her lingerie drawer like a kid with his own private adult candy store, the sensual feel of her forbidden intimates sending an excited electricity though his quivering fingertips, the touch of her panties providing enough current through nervous arms to make his thundering heart stutter in anticipation.

Carefully selecting a pair of black seamed stockings and a black thong as though they were sacred relicts hidden deep at the back of his mother’s dresser drawer, Hal nervously carried his stolen treasures to her bed, a bed which had always seemed too big for one alone, sitting on its worn edge as he reverently balled up the stockings to slide dark fabric over his freshly trimmed toenails, pulling the wispy hosiery ever so cautiously across his curled toes to prevent a run in their exotic thread. As he gently tugged them upwards, a strange caress embraced his calves, the sheer exhilaration of borrowed femininity exciting him as he gathered the domain of women up along both slender thighs, finally coaxing the nylons all the way up to his crotch.

The hair on his legs was still fine, far from the darkened coat of a man he’d have in a few years, his young skin still smooth beneath the nylon’s shadowed veil.

The next piece was the black satin-cotton thong panties which felt like cool heaven against his testicles, their chillingly smooth fabric providing the fuel for an erotic fire burning in his pounding heart.

On shining black legs, a younger Hal stood up, astonished by the reflected transformation of the boy who looked back at him from his mother’s full-length mirror, both of them running greedy hands along thighs to indulge in this sensual nylon fantasy, the image of a boy in a woman’s undergarments.

His thin legs weren’t quite thick enough to hold up the silky hosiery yet, the lacy tops of his mother’s full-figured stockings quickly needing the support of his fingers to keep the soft garments from slinking down to his knees. Stretching them upwards between his fingers and thumbs, the skinny Hal turned around to admire his other side, the black sheen of draped thighs rising up to the slender loop of black fabric wedged between his slender butt cheeks.

As a boy about to become a man, he didn’t have the wide round ass of his mother, but his own tiny ass still looked girlish in her panties. He knew from past experience that her bras wouldn’t fit, not by a long shot, but there _was_ a silky pink negligee which he’d tried on before that would complete this outfit wonderfully…

“I was wondering who was stretching out my good nylons.”

Like a transgender Frankenstein suddenly thrust from the castle to face an angry mob, Hal Jordan’s erotic world of experimentation blew up in his face like some ancient phosphorous light bulb, his cheeks turning deeper shades of crimson as though third-degree burns had been formed by every word the returned Jessica Jordan had just spoken.

His mother, home from work early for the first time in years, was now leaning against the bedroom doorway, focused blue eyes watching each and every flinch as he attempted to stammer out the explanation he’d carefully planned weeks ago, back when he’d started this forbidden fashion adventure.

“Mom!!! I… _ahhh_ … Halloween’s coming!… And I… _ummm_ …”

“Halloween… Go on, dear.”

“Well… _ummm_ … Y’know… Costumes are really expensive and…”

“And you thought you’d save me money by going out dressed as a girl… In my clothes… And underwear.”

“Yeah.”

“I see… Then you’ll need a garter belt for those… Like mine.”

Under the embers of his flushed cheeks, Hal’s jaw suddenly fell open, the bellows of his audible gasps feeding the fires of raging embarrassment as his mother calmly hiked up her pleated skirt to reveal the garter-fastened clips securing her own tan stockings.

His stare lasted far longer than it should have, wide brown eyes travelling across the contours of her sloping thighs, dragged upwards to witness the few dark pubic hairs spilling out from beneath beige satin panties covering a smooth mound.

Until that moment, his mother had always been just his mother, but now, for the first time in his life, Hal Jordan saw her as something completely different…

A woman.

The roundness of her hips and the arching curves of her nylon-clad legs were somehow hypnotic, the small heart-shaped gap formed between her muscular thighs and her panty-covered sex became the keyhole to an adult world which the mystified Hal knew little about.

_Pussy._

The older boys had called it a pussy.

Hal’s stunned gaze fell on the ivory clips hooked around the top of her own stockings, magically suspended by white garters to an elastic lacy garter belt.

Jessica Jordan dropped the cotton curtains on her son’s unpaid peep show, letting the grey pinstripe skirt tumble from her waist back down to her knees, easily strutting past the mortified boy to stop at the still-open lingerie drawer to retrieve her black garter belt, giving it a little stretch as she turned to appraise the huddled figure of a cross-kneed and cross-dressing Hal.

“My stockings are a little big on you.”

Hal couldn’t breathe as his mother crouched down behind him, tapping one of his nylon-wrapped feet as she held the stretchy garment beneath his wriggling toes.

“Lift it up, sweetie.”

“Do I have to?”

“If you’re going to wear women’s clothing for Halloween, then yes… Now the other foot.”

A thousand troubled thoughts coursed through Hal’s young mind like a tropical hurricane of guilt, the hormonal waves of mounting anxiety crashing against his twisting stomach, a storm surge of panic overwhelming the barriers of reason as he felt his own mother sliding the black garter belt up around his slender thighs, adjusting the garment around his nervous waist in order to align it properly.

“Mom, I…”

“ _Shhh_ … Watch how I do it… Lift up the metal snap, and then slide this plastic knob underneath the top part of the stocking… Then you just have to close it… Snappy-snap, just like that… All done.”

But when her busy fingertips inadvertently touched his thigh, it was like a thousand more of them poked him in the chest, an army of accusing fingers quickly pushing the tides of nausea up to the top of his tightening throat, causing Hal to suddenly remembered the story of the kid at school, black-eyed Billy Rescan who’d been caught smoking a month ago by his tough-as-nails step-father, recounting the tale of Billy’s ironic punishment by being forced to smoke the entire pack until the poor kid had turned a sickly shade of green, finally puking his guts out while his step-dad roared with laughter, uttering those four fateful words...

_“That’ll learn ya, kid.”_

Hal didn’t have a Dad anymore, but he was happy as heck he didn’t have a replacement like Billy Rescan’s step-father either.

With one garter clip done and her experienced fingers hooking the next, Hal suddenly wondered if this was _that_ kind of punishment, the kind that drowns a kid who can’t swim by pushing him into the deep end of the pool.

If he wanted to dress like a girl, then maybe his mother was teaching him a painful lesson by treating him like one…

Oh God! Maybe she’d even parade him around in one of her dresses in front of Jack and Jim in an early preview of Halloween, his brothers hooting and hollering until they’d had a good laugh at Hal’s cross-dressing expense. Oh shoot, and they’d be home soon!

“Mom, I won’t wear your clothes anymore! I’ll stay home for Halloween this year!”

“Nonsense, dear… Now stop fidgeting.”

Finishing the final clip, his mother stepped back and looked at her son as though she’d just picked out his back-to-school outfit from a lingerie shop.

“So cute… I’ve got an old miniskirt that you’d look just stunning in for Halloween.”

“Mom… Please… No more… I promise I won’t wear your stuff… Never, ever, again.”

Jessica Jordan paused, a wry grin slowly creasing her mouth as she weighed the idea that her second-born son may have finally learned a painful and humiliating lesson when dealing with his mother.

_First, never lie to me… And second, never fuck with my clothes, darling._

She was about to let him off the embarrassing hook she’d caught him on when, like the lid suddenly snatched from Pandora’s Box to reveal all her worst fears, dark thoughts twisted in her worrisome mind like a coiling den of asps.

_What if this horny little goat’s been using my good panties to blow his load into every afternoon?... Was his semen all over my underwear this morning?... Was there a wet spot?... Oh shit, I haven’t been on the fucking pill for three years!... He could knock me up!_

She was sure he couldn’t have, but then again… She _had_ to ask the question.

Like a desperate detective grasping at straws during a murder investigation, Jessica Jordan took a firm hold of her only suspect and looked him straight in the eye.

“Harold… Be honest with me, sweetheart… This is _very_ important… I need you to be honest no matter what… I won’t be mad at you, but you have to tell me the truth… Have you been masturbating in Mommy’s underwear?”

With the same look of incomprehension as a fawn caught in a trucker’s headlights, Hal shook his head in denial so hard that she thought his poor brains might dislodge.

“No, Mom… I swear… I don’t masturbate… It hurts too much.”

At first, Jessica looked at her son skeptically, but the searing honesty in those terrified eyes soon replaced doubt with a mother’s concern.

“Baby… Tell me… What do you mean that it _hurts_?”

Hal’s shift-footed nervousness dredged up the guilty memory of Geoff Perkins talking about ‘whacking off’ while hidden in the woods over a year ago, the weaselly redheaded boy using his father’s hunting binoculars to get a good view of the then seventeen-year-old girl who used to babysit them both.

According to Geoff, when Donna Philpot removed her bra, she had the most amazing pair of tits you’d ever see, with poky pink nipples and everything. He then proudly informed Hal that he’d yanked it out and whacked off right there in the woods.

From that private conversation, Hal understood that ‘whacking off’ and ‘masturbating’ were basically the same thing, but he’d be damned if he were going to ask a little freak like Geoff Perkins how a guy was supposed to ‘whack off’.

Later that night though, as a hot-and-hormonal Hal laid in his bed imagining what Donna Philpot’s tits actually looked like, he tried slapping his penis back-and-forth and from side-to-side, giving it a dozen good slaps while he imagined the teenaged girl taking _all_ her clothes off.

The then twelve-year-old’s vivid imagination had made the fleshy appendage between his legs stiffen, but Hal honestly didn’t see what the point of whacking it around was. Honestly, it just hurt. After that, the thoughts of seeing certain girls in their underwear might make it stiff, but he wasn’t about to beat his erection around because of it.

Getting caught by your mother in her underwear was one thing. Telling her about your failed attempts at whacking off was another. Still, Jessica Jordan wasn’t the kind of a mother to let something like this go.

“I tried beating it, like the other guys do… I mean, I whacked it from side-to-side, back-and-forth… _Everything_ … But it hurts when I do it… Honest Mom, I haven’t whacked off in your underwear, I promise!”

Caught off-guard by her son’s unexpected explanation, Jessica Jordan honestly didn’t know which way to let her feelings fall. She was deeply relieved on one hand, but a little worried that he hadn’t figured out how to relieve himself by his own hand.

 “Harold… You’ve never…. ejaculated?... Not even once?”

The crimson honesty in his cheeks when he shook his head from side-to-side meant her underwear was safe,  but that her poor little man must also be as frustrated as hell.

Maybe that’s why he’d taken to wearing her lingerie. If his father was still around, she could’ve had Martin explain to Little-Boy-Blue-Balls here that the actual act was more like stroking than smacking.

She was sure Hal probably would’ve figured it out on his own sooner or later, but as a mother, it upset her to see him suffer this way. Not when a few flicks of the wrist could undo the simple misunderstanding which had stalled his development. God knows, she’d performed enough rub-and-tug on his father while he was alive to know what she was doing in the men’s department.

So maybe she’d just show him a few strokes, just to get him started. Her poor baby could finish himself off later, but at least he wouldn’t be beating his poor willy senseless. She made a mental note to put a box of tissues on his bedside table in the meantime.

“Harold… I’m going to show you something… But first, you have to promise me something.”

“ _Ummm_ … _Okay_ …”

“First, what I’m about to show you has to be our little secret… I’m only doing this because I want you to be able to take care of yourself… But I’ll only do it if you promise me that you’ll never tell a single soul where you learned how to do it… Understood?

The world suddenly teetered on his young shoulders, her stern stare confirming existence itself would depend on how he answered. His feet bolted to the floor; the weight of the world carried by those two cool blue oceans poised to drown him in utter agony should he ever betray her, the young man answered the only way he could.

“I understand... I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good… Second, I’ll keep a box of tissues by your bed so you can clean up after yourself when you masturbate… You’ll need to flush the tissues down the toilet, not toss them under your bed or in your wastebasket… Got it?”

“ _Ahhh_ … OK.”

“And finally, if you ever wear my underwear again, there will be serious consequences… In fact, I know _exactly_ what your Halloween outfit will be if I find out you’ve been wearing them.”

“You do?”

“Yes… I’ll dress you up as the sexiest little hooker in all of Coast City and make you turn tricks for your treats… And I don’t think you want to dress up as a hooker for Halloween, do you?”

The cold floor almost seemed to disappear beneath Hal’s stocking feet as he dry-swallowed his response.

“… No, Ma’am.”

“Good boy… Now remember, I’m only doing this because it’s easier to show you than to explain it… Turn around.”

Hal turned to realize he was facing the full-length mirror; the same one he’d been admiring himself in only moments ago. This time though, his eyes were not on himself, hopelessly drawn past his own girlish reflection to that of the woman beyond.

Standing behind him, Jessica Jordan neatly removed her blouse and skirt, with Hal’s wide brown eyes instantly focusing on the heavy breasts contained in a taupe bra stretched to the limit, its fabric as smooth as blown beige glass. Her own tanned stockings were neatly held by garters crossing her upper thighs like lonely highways.

She didn’t have to remove her blouse and skirt to do this. She really didn’t. But it was the sight of her son almost naked and vulnerable that made her want to level the playing field, to make him even a little more comfortable.

She could tell herself that, but the painful truth was the longing ache for another’s heat against her own, another body to warm the bitter chill which had haunted her for three long years now. The feel of skin-on-skin to conquer it, if only for a moment.

Hal lost his breath as his mother stepped forward to embrace the boy from behind, the amazing warmth of her body pressed against his back something he’d honestly forgotten, the soft acceptance of her arms enveloping his needful soul.

He’d also forgotten that his mother had deceptively powerful hands, that strong grip built from a lifetime of keeping everyone together. It was those hands which he missed now, those beautiful-yet-strong hands which pulled him tight against her, hugging him until Hal felt like he’d never be alone again.

There were no words, only a boy’s nascent desire crashing against the barren shores of a mother’s loneliness. Her hands were slowly remembering the shape of a man’s desire, building the signal fires of yearning upon his dark shores as she ran her fingers along Hal’s nylon-covered thighs, enthralled by the feel of her nylons on another leg.

Quick gasps responded to the tiny kisses she placed upon the nape of his neck, the heat from her satin-smooth crotch becoming the first embers of the inferno which would soon burn them down.

Indulging a mother’s curiosity and a woman’s desire, Jessica Jordan cast a curious downward glance towards the mirror, noticing the smooth canopy of her little black thong was no match for the throbbing timber which had pushed past its slender waistband to seek the sun.

Struggling to contain her shock, Jessica’s own breathing became nervous as she mentally calculated the massive erection rising up from between Harold’s thighs… Eight, maybe nine inches… And _thick_... Oh Christ, was he thick!

The boy was bigger than his father, maybe even twice Martin’s size. Where she’d only needed two fingers and a thumb to jerk off her late husband, she wasn’t even sure she could wrap her hand around Harold’s rampaging monster-cock.

But she'd still do her best to try.

“Mommy’s going to show you how to masturbate… Ready, baby?”

After and amazingly quick nod, there was a frightened but needful moan escaping his mouth as Jessica took hold of her son’s amazing virgin manhood, its throbbing heat spreading unexpected powerful chills along her body. Each slow and careful stroke was soon matched to the pounding of their conjoined hearts, a new revolution within an engine of desire as mother guided son towards sexual experience.

“Not too tight of a grip now… Firm but gentle… You only need to stroke these two or three inches… The base of the ridge is the most sensitive spot, right here, where shaft meets head… Just rub that area back-and-forth while you think of something sexy.”

Caught up in her own excitement, Jessica’s satiny smooth pelvis began to slowly grind against Hal’s naked ass, forcing him to match the sway of the shared sensual journey she was charting their course through. The heat of her sex against his backside made him respond in kind, exciting the teen even more as her steady pace quickened along the redlining gears of lust, Hal’s throbbing stick-shift happily allowing his mother to take full control to put him through his paces.

Within a minute, the boy’s quivering mouth gasped like a wide-open manifest, sucking deep breaths to feed the nitro-fuelled blaze of desire building below, until Jessica’s left hand slid up along his naked chest, flicking his hardening nipple, her naughty palm slowly sliding upwards past his slackened chin to cover his mouth like a choke valve, the sudden unexpected deprivation of air sending waves of deepening panic throughout Hal’s quivering body.

Muffled protests were instantly replaced by bleating moans of tearful need when his mother began to work his painfully erect cock at a quickening pace, the quickening baton between his legs soon reaching a whining crescendo under her masterful conducting, the ignition coils of her hot mound continuing to grind against his receptive ass like a V-8 on the wide-open road, his own flatlining engine threatening to blow a gasket as she continued to relentlessly jerk his stiff throttle into overdrive with that masterful grip.

Nylon-covered knees slowly turned inwards until his supple young body ceded total control to her, a sudden calm washing over a firestorm of desire as Hal saw the first road signs to Heaven on her right, trusting in his mother’s skilled hand to take them there. As the Highway of Innocence was being left behind along the turnpike to Sin, something at the base of Hal’s hard-driven shaft buckled, his transmission threatening to blow under her mother’s high-octane caress until he practically went cross-eyed with the need for air.

Hot tears blinded his blinking eyes until a periphery of darkness threatened to overwhelm his senses, Hal gasping like a rescued drowning man when his mother finally lifted the smothering hand from his face, her masterstroke becoming his breathy wails of speed, his windswept head suddenly leaning out of a terrifying car window at a hundred mile-an-hour with only snatches of breath possible while this new world rushed madly by.

This flood of fresh oxygen was more than enough to put him over, the thrill of life instantly sending maddening desperation to the brink of insanity, the explosive situation between his legs suddenly screaming past the point of no return until the fiery eruption of white-hot magma erupted from his camshaft to mark the climax of his youth, the faltering governor valve of boyhood suddenly blown asunder by Hal’s first magnificent load of supercharged semen, a thick stream of white coursing through his guided shaft like a blown head gasket, his milky spray shooting upwards along a thick geyser of white cream until it desecrated the silvered reflection of his own tear-filled orgasmic face reflected in his the dressing mirror.

Like a science fair volcano going off in her hand, Jessica Jordan guided the next two shots from her son’s powerful first climax towards the reflection of his tiny hardened nipples, watching her teenaged boy cum all over the image of his boyish chest, the streaming milky spray of his first blast already running down a mirrored mouth crying out in ecstasy.

_Wow… Those big painful blue balls were ready to burst!... Your poor cock just needed Mommy’s loving touch, that’s all._

Taking one last moment to admire the sticky portrait of her handiwork, Jessica turned Hal around like a wobbling top, taking strong handfuls of his thick hair until the boy’s shock-slackened mouth was guided to her own.

In one smooth descent, Jessica Jordan’s lips locked against those of her son’s, the flicker of her darting tongue soon tempting his own until his virgin mouth learned how to dance with hers, until it reignited the swirling eddies of lust between his wobbling legs, until she felt something hot and throbbing stirring against her inner thigh.

Feeling his red-hot shaft roar back to life so suddenly and so achingly close to her own abandoned sex made Jessica Jordan’s intentions misfire, the hiss of fear shooting across her pounding heart like a blown radiator overheating in this sun-scorched highway of desire.

Oh Christ, she really needed to stop.

Now.

Applying the brakes, the widow slowly broke off her son’s first kiss, running her thumb along his still hairless upper lip until the boy shuddered with anticipation, his reflexive hips twitching as though he’d been bound from head-to-foot, her steely blue-eyed gaze chaining Hal’s tilting heartstrings to her seductive will.

She’d never had this kind of power over him as his mother before.

Beckoning fingertips traced his jawline until Hal’s wide brown eyes stared across at his mother’s landscape with wet desire, his pleading gaze refusing to blink while writing an admission of surrender to her every whim.

 “God, you remind me so much of your father, baby… The way you look, the way you move, your smile… It’s hard for a woman… Hard being alone.”

“You’re not alone, Mom.”

With considerable effort, she held him with the passionate sterility of a mother, attempting to reset to the past.

But for Hal, the feel of his mother’s nakedness pressing against his slender body sent aftershocks of excitement throughout him like Satan’s invitation to the afterparty. Hal envisioned his trembling hands unhooking her bra to expose the glorious-yet-forbidden fruit of his mother’s breasts, his mouth salivating at the thought of tasting the delectable flesh melons now pressing against him, drowning in the ripened pleasure of those full Mommy-tits which he knew would put Donna Philpot’s tissue-stuffed bra to shame.

Sensing her son’s mounting arousal, Jessica Jordan steeled herself to end their embrace before his brothers came home, placing her second-born boy at arm’s length until she forced her blue eyes to shift back into reality from this wonderful dream.

“Better get your clothes back on… Your brothers will be back home in a few minutes… Hurry now.”

Young Hal Jordan went out as an astronaut for Halloween that year.

 

**3**

Time stopped as Earth’s Star Sapphire materialized from a thousand pink lights beside him once again as Hal’s shifting consciousness left the body of a boy to return to a dying man, his brown eyes brimming with forgotten tears.

Like a spectre emerging from a green coffin deep within his mind, that memory had been set free to haunt Hal Jordan, to possess him with the ghost of his mother as he was about to die here in space.

_“Carol… stop this… My mother… She wasn’t… She was never the same… after my dad died.”_

“Until you filled the void he left in her heart.”

_“I’m begging you… Don’t do this… Let me remember her… like before.”_

“For hearts long lost and full of fright… For those alone in blackest night...”

_“I don’t need any goddamned charity… Not from a Star Sapphire.”_

The semblance of a smile spread across the same cherry lips he once knew so well.

“No?”

_“No… Fuck you and your love.”_

“Then I suppose this is goodbye, Hal Jordan of Earth... I will weep for you.”

With a snap of her fingers, she was gone and he couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t scream from the pain now flooding his body like a thousand hot pokers making his blood literally boil beneath his skin, the cold and vast loneliness of space trying to pull that heat through each and every pore.

Hal Jordan was going to die utterly alone.

“Carol… wait…”

The violet force-field which had previously been keeping Hal alive reappeared around him, a dozen desperate breaths of its artificial atmosphere returning life to what had become nothing more than a speck in the infinite blackness of space only seconds ago.

In a flash of pink, the Star Sapphire of Earth floated beside him once more wearing little more than a grin.

“A change of heart?”

_“Alright… alright… If I do this… If I go back again and see my Mom... If I forgive her for all that happened… That’s it?”_

“No, that’s not ‘it’.”

_“Then what?”_

“You must remember love.”

_“Christ’s sake, Carol… Just tell me already…”_

But with that, the man disappeared into his past once more, not so much to relive his life as a boy, but to experience the emotions shared between a frustrated fourteen-year-old boy and his desperately lonely mother.

And this just happened to be the same hot summer he’d made love to his mother for the first time.

 

 

 


	2. Surrender at the Gates of Love

**Chapter Two:**  
**Surrender at the Gates of Love**  


**1**

Over the next nine months, Hal Jordan had learned to stroke _very_ well, masturbating almost nightly while envisioning the girls from his school, or the sexy girls who appeared on late-night TV, or sometimes even the swimsuit models from Jack’s magazines.

But mostly, he pleasured himself to forbidden thoughts of her.  

The fourteen-year-old boy knew it wasn’t right, that there was something inherently wrong with a guy who fantasized about his own mother like that, but whenever his mom bent over, the teenager’s eyes were immediately drawn to her long curvy ass, silently begging her skirt to hike up just a little further, to show him just a little more. When she inevitable walked away, her swaying stride was like a weaving snake charmer, the swinging rhythm of her see-saw ass causing the zipper-bound serpent between his thighs to rise up from the cotton basket of his briefs and strain against the inside seam of his suddenly tight jeans, spellbound by her enthralling strut.

When his mother leaned over at the dinner table and scooped out the mashed potatoes, Hal had to catch himself before he was licking his lips to the hanging fruit of her full cleavage instead of the hamburger gravy she’d made. It wasn’t normal for a guy to be attracted to his mother like that, but he just couldn’t help wanting to help himself to those sweet melons instead of the peas and carrots on his plate.

On those nights, no matter which fantasy he started with, the only true relief he would achieve was jerking it to his mother. With the taboo memory of that afternoon replaying in his feverish mind, his own hand soon replaced hers as the teen stroked himself to the gushing Gates of Paradise, the sticky rush of his own orgasmic seed eventually wiped away by the faithful tissues she’d stationed by his bedside.

For her own part, Jessica Jordan had seemed to forget about what had happened that day. There was no special treatment for Hal in regards to his two brothers, no uncomfortable talks, no stolen kisses and certainly no secret rendezvous in her bedroom, even if he often fantasized about it.

When she caught him sneaking glances at her sensual curves, his mother simply pretended not to notice, which only made him want to look at them even more. After showing him how to masturbate, it was as though her sexual educational duties were now complete, graduating her middle boy with full honors, allowing the confused student to tread the lonely path to manhood after sending him down the garden path to pomp and circumstance.

But for the pubescent teen, his raging hormones would always circle back to that magical afternoon, reluctantly walking his lonely path to manhood while consistently turning back to catch another glimpse of her.

But Hal remembered this was the very night when he’d finally caught more than a glimpse. This was the night where he’d claimed his own mother in her bed, but not before almost killing her former boss first.

Carson Manella had been a married creep who was also unfortunately Jessica Jordan’s supervisor at the insurance firm where she worked. His family owned the local firm, a fact which his mother, and any other woman who worked there, knew all too well.

According to Carson, a good slap on the ass was simply the sign of a job well done… And a grope was simply a slap that wasn’t afraid of commitment.

This was back in the days when sexual harassment was more of an unwritten expectation than a crime. When men pushed their way to a woman’s bed with bourbon-soaked swagger, taking the cutting slap to their face if only to spite her ‘no’s’.

Drifting back in time, Hal remembered this had been another hot Saturday night, with his younger brother Jim away at some summer camp while Jack had his driver’s license now, using the family car to drive to his summer job as a night security guard at some upscale mall in a new part of town.

On this night, Jessica Jordan had finally agreed to attend one of the infamous ‘bitch-and-wine’ company parties the womanizing Carson was famous for. Admittedly, she was reluctant to attend anything that involved alcohol and Carson Manella, but the mother of three also knew that with both Jack and Jim out of the house on a hot Saturday night, she was placing herself in an extremely precarious position by being alone with Hal, fearing that one look of those big brown bedroom eyes might have her middle son sharing her own bed for the night.

With more than just _sharing_ of the bed going on.

Over these past months, Jessica Jordan couldn’t believe how much her second-born son reminded her of his father at that age. Hal was now the same age as when she’d met first Martin in junior high, becoming more than just sweethearts in the back of his Chevy the following year when they were both fifteen, marrying him at the local church three years later. Martin would be sent away on his first tour of duty with the Air Force two months after that, but not before Jack had become a noticeable bump in her belly.

Still, they’d made it work. At least until Martin had decided that trying to land a failed experimental jet was worth more than their future together. Worth more than his life and his family.

At night, when the rank decay of four years’ worth of bitter regret threatened to rot her abandoned heart from the inside out, the widowed mother of three allowed herself to believe that Hal might be her second chance.

And those were dangerous thoughts for a mother to have.

It was even worse on the nights when she physically ached for him, imagining her own son ravishing her body the same way his eyes had done during the day, her sexual fantasies of his lustful hands replacing those needful eyes while she simply let herself give in to his teenaged desires.

If tonight turned into another one of those nights, when the ache would bring tears to her eyes and stroking fingers between her thighs, Jessica knew she wouldn’t be able to help herself from making a terrible mistake with Hal.

Instead, she’d made an even worse mistake by placing her trust in the vile Carson Manella.

**2**

Alone in the house, the fourteen-year-old should’ve been fast asleep by the time his mother arrived home, but the July day had been hot and they didn’t have air conditioning. On humid nights like this, Hal would often read heroic tales of adventures featuring corny villains and scantily-clad damsels in distress until the wee hours of the morning, or at least until the house finally cooled down and he could sleep. But with the trashy book splayed lifelessly across his naked chest and the thermostat still registering in the mid-eighties, the boy realized he _had_ been drifting off when a car pulled up outside the house.

When its headlights slid across his room, the bleary-eyed teen thought it must be a cab finally bringing his mother home.

But one glance out his window revealed this wasn’t a cab.

It was a black Trans Am, the kind with a golden firebird on the hood.

The same kind that Carson Manella drove.

Hal’s stomach began to twist and tighten like a hangman’s noose before he carefully turned off his tiny reading lamp, hiding his face behind the curtain like the neighbourhood gossip, leaving only a sliver open so that the brown-eyed boy could watch the 60-watt scene being played out under the faltering iridescent porch light he’d left on for his mother.

The boy watched as the swarthy-yet-sly businessman played the laughing gentleman and opened the passenger side door for his mother with cheap panache, graciously extending his hairy-knuckled hands to assist her up from his low-riding V8 chariot before dropping the chivalrous pretense as she rose up on her heels, placing his sweaty palms all over the tight skirt stretched across her ass.

Hal felt his own fists tighten in rage as the lecherous bastard pressed his resisting mother against the car door, his invasive monkey-paws working their way up from rear to thigh, then up to her hanging breasts with no hesitation. Squeezing her own hands up through the middle before he could get his across her state lines, Jessica Jordan managed to create just enough distance to glare at the man’s drunken eyes.

“Carson… _stop_.”

“C’mon, Jess… Lighten up… You know you want this just as bad as I do… I mean, how long’s it been since you had a man… Four fucking years?... C’mon, just let me get a good feel of those big tits.”

“You’re drunk… And I’m really tired… I’m sure your wife’s waiting for you at home.”

He almost spat on the ground before chuckling.

“That frigid bitch!... _Heh_ … You don’t worry about her, Jess… She knows better’n to open her mouth about what I do for fun… ‘Cause I’ll fuckin’ close it for that bitch… But hey, I got an idea… How about I unzip my pants and you can open that sweet little mouth of yours instead, Miss Jordan.”

Hal watched as his mother’s blue eyes transformed into cold steel as the man fumbled with his zipper.

“It’s _Mrs_. Jordan, thank you very much.”

“Not no more, it ain’t.”

He grabbed at her arm as she turned to walk away, offering cheap apologies while hanging off her like the fabled albatross.

“Oh c’mon, I was just kiddin’… Loosen up, sweetheart… You don’t want to be alone forever, do you?... Let’s go inside and have a drink… C’mon… One for the road.”

“My boys are home… They’re sleeping… Just go, Carson… Please.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake!… Fine, fine… Whatever… Just let me have a piss before I go… I’m practically bursting here.”

“There’s a gas station with a washroom a mile back…”

“Fuck that!… I ain’t usin’ no goddamned public toilet… An’ if I pull over on the side of the road to take a whizz, that’ll be the exact time a fucking cop cruiser drives by… You don’t want me to lose my license, do you?... C’mon, Jess… Have a heart… Look, I’m sorry, alright?... I made a joke… A stupid joke… Just let me take a leak and then I’ll go home… Scout’s honor.”

From behind the curtain, Hal secretly wished his mother would’ve stood her ground and told this jerk to just go piss on a bush. Or even better, to go piss on his fancy car.

But instead, she relented after a long sigh.

“Just keep it quiet, alright?... I don’t want you to wake up my boys.”

His oily smile was as fake as an adder’s grin.

“Quiet as a mouse.”

Halfway from sleep delirium, the teenaged Hal wasn’t sure why he slipped into his discarded pyjama pants, or why he slowly tiptoed barefoot like a thief across his darkened bedroom towards its door, opening it ever so quietly as he heard his own front door being unlocked, the purposeful stride of his mother’s heels clicking across the linoleum floor towards the bathroom like an impatient tour guide.

He wasn’t sure what the sudden scuffle of movement was, but he was sure that the sharp cry from his surprised mother had come from the kitchen countertop, causing the boy’s shaking body to suddenly wage a war between fear and anger that intensified with every step he forced himself to take forward.

He suddenly remembered his promise to himself. That when Hal’s father had died, he swore he’d never be afraid again, that he’d grow up to be the kind of man his father would’ve been proud of.

That he’d protect his mother.

This was the night where he kept that promise. A promise that reminded him of another oath he’d taken…

_In brightest day, in blackest night,_  
No evil shall escape my sight,  
Let those who worship evil’s might,  
Beware my power…

As he rounded the corner, what he saw _was_ evil, an image of brutality burning into his retinas like an atomic flash, the soul-ripping first act of lustful tragedy being perpetrated against his own mother.

Her blouse had already been torn open, the man she’d allowed into her home now jamming his hips against her perpendicular backside like a bulldozer, pinning her slender frame against the wooden countertop as the bastard dry-humped her squirming skirt, those same hairy hands fumbling with the back clasp of her stretched bra until it was yanked apart, exposing the twin peaks of fantasy flesh hidden beneath.

For the briefest of moments, the teenaged Hal was stunned by the spectacular globes falling against his mother’s ribcage as she struggled to turn, her resistance exposing pink upturned nipples crowning areolas the size of quarters set atop ripe mounds of perfection. He knew then beyond the shadow of a doubt that his mother’s tits were a thousand nicer than Donna Philpot’s, nicer than any other girl’s in his school.

His awe lasted only until Hal saw the bastard take a handful of her dark hair, violently shoving his mother’s head against the backsplash, Carson’s other hand frantically fumbling with the buckle on his pants to free his rape-rod while simultaneously hiking up her skirt.

He’d done this before. From the way he held her down and carefully worked himself into position, the boy knew he’d done this before.

“Let her go.”

Hal was amazed at how steady his voice came out; the unveiled threat of his anger carrying across the kitchen like a declaration of war. The darkened eyes of Carson Manella filled with fear until they spun to behold the voice challenging him, that fear transforming into a mocking ease the moment he saw the unarmed, half-naked fourteen-year-old wearing only plaid pyjama bottoms standing at the entryway to the kitchen.

In fact, he outright laughed.

“Oh, Jess… See what you done, babe… You were having so much fun you went and woke this poor kid up… Better tell him to go back to bed… Tell him it’s alright, babe… Go back to bed, kid… This is grownup stuff.”

There was no mistaking the poison layered in the man’s voice, the promise of catastrophe causing the wide blue eyes of Jessica Jordan to stare up from the countertop with a desperation that made something in Hal’s chest coil like a challenged viper, his own bare feet standing fast as those mascara-stained eyes implored the half-naked boy to run away as fast as they could take him, to escape from this monster without another thought about her.

She told him to run, but her voice was little more than gasping sobs now.

But his voice worked just fine.

“I said LET HER GO!”

The scornful eyes of a man who outweighed him by at least ninety pounds measured Hal carefully, turning slowly with that cocky grin as he reached inside his suit jacket pocket to confront a boy who was a third his age.

“And I said go back to bed, kid… Or maybe you wanna see what I brought back from Sicily last year... Don’t see many of ‘em around anymore… It’s pretty cool.”

Hal only knew it was a weapon.

And that was enough.

He didn’t know was how lucky he’d been that Carson’s drunken fingers caused the switchblade sleeping in his pocket to twist and lodge against the fat-tightened seam at its hem. He didn’t know how lucky the adrenaline-fuelled right hook he’d launched from clear across the kitchen like a swinging haybale actually found its mark on Carson’s disbelieving jaw.

In as little as two years, Hal Jordan would develop the size and power to easily knock a fully-grown man out with a well-placed haymaker like that. But at fourteen, the best he could hope for was what he’d achieved, making Carson Manella shake away the knuckle-spun cobwebs in his head for a few crucial seconds while the drunken bastard continued to struggle with the stubborn handle lodged in his pocket.

In those crucial seconds, Hal felt a mounting fear quickly clawing at his throat as though attempting to strangle him, the boy quickly realizing that he wasn’t going to win a fistfight against this man, then glancing at his wide-eyed mother to see if she could twist her way out of the corner this prick had backed her into.

Instead, Hal found her own panicked gaze solidly fixed on the eight-pound cast-iron skillet drying on the other side of the sink beside him. With Carson’s agitated bulk still forcing her into the corner, the pan was a good thirty inches beyond her own grasping reach.

But it wasn’t out of Hal’s reach.

Clutching its long handle with both hands, the teen squared his stance and swung with everything he had. Always a natural athlete, he’d been playing league baseball for the past five years and the coaches said the Jordan kid was one of the few players his age who could knock it over the fence…

And he was swinging for those fences now.

In fact, if some last-second primal reflex hadn’t caused Carter Manella’s head to suddenly jerk backwards and his freed right arm to take its place, the swing could’ve been _much_ worse. Instead, the frying pan slammed into a suddenly revealed right forearm just in front of his face, the same arm which had finally pulled a trick blade from the breast pocket like some psychopathic magician’s magic wand, its silvery blade set to perform a dangerous trick at Hal’s expense before his swing cut it mercifully short.

The boy felt a sickening crack under the bastard’s right wrist before both blade and pan were sent flying from the impact. But not before the family-sized skillet left its mark on Carson Manella’s right arm.

“YOU CRAZY SON-OF-A-BITCH!”

The screaming man’s crazed eyes should’ve been fixed on Hal, but they couldn’t see past the strange bend in his forearm after Hal had swung the cruel iron pan edgeways to snap both bones like dried reeds in the winter.

Still having the use of both of his hands allowed the boy to snatch the biggest knife from the butcher block, breathing like a madman as he brandished its six-inch blade towards Carson’s veiny throat, the boy’s eyes shifting towards the exit with an obvious meaning.

A meaning which the broken-armed man refused to grasp, still attempting to comprehend what had just happened to his forearm.

“You crazy mother-fucker!... Look what you did to me!”

Hal should’ve been wracked with fear. He should’ve been shaking from head to toe. But he’d been born for this, the blood of war heroes now flowing through his veins in brilliant shades of fire as the knife held steady with its dark promise.

“If you ever lay a finger on my mother again… I swear to God, I’ll cut your fucking balls off, mister… Now get out!”

“Fuck you _and_ your whore-ass mother… Fuck you both!”

But the man’s words were nothing more than the growling threats of a mangled dog baring its fangs as it backed a tucked-in tail towards the door.

“They’re gonna lock you up, kid… And you, Jess… You’re done… You’re fucking fired, you cock-teasing bitch!”

Hal silently stepped forward with his knife at the ready, placing himself directly between Carson and his mother, ensuring the cursing trespasser had no other option but to leave, even if the less-than-fond farewells continued out the doorway.

“You stupid little mother fucker!… Look what you did to my arm!... I gotta go to the goddamned hospital now… I’ll sue you for everything your punk-ass is worth!”

The same moment the man with the crooked arm stormed out of their home, Hal calmly walked forward and locked the door behind him, his brown-eyed gaze peering through its window to watch Carson extricate himself _into_ the Trans Am, its angry fat tires spitting dry stones from the gravel driveway like a rabid dog before the growling car’s unsteady backside was finally put to right and driven away.

In that moment, the boy secretly hoped Carson Manella would drive it off a bridge before he made it to a hospital, that he’d drown in the Stillwater Creek so that his mother would never have to see him again.

But at least it was over.

The war ended and its victor declared, whatever brave walls Hal had constructed to keep the invading armies of emotions from his stern resolve suddenly fell, the sight of mascara-blackened blue eyes and the angry welt on his mother’s forehead suddenly breaking his heart, the remnants of the summery blouse and lacy bra torn asunder by the same cowardly attack which had begun the battle, those heavenly naked breasts still heaving with each disbelieving breath she drew.

The battlefield of the boy’s thundering chest was overcome with the swell of fresh passions until exaltation hoisted the hero on its shoulders and carried him through war-torn streets towards her. Relief, pride, joy, anger, and lust all raised their flags within his chest while his bare feet swept along in a boisterous march.

There was enough of the Old Guard left within him to will his eyes into one last steely resolve, just enough to keep his voice from faltering as he put a steady hand against her flushed cheek with a determined stare more powerful than her halting tears.

“You’re never going to see that man again.”

“Oh, Hal… Oh God… I’m so sorry… I… “

There were no more words spoken as his advancing mouth claimed hers, her lips quivering with all the bonfires of need soon spreading beyond their control. Hal’s thundering passions stoked the wildfires of lust until it threatened to consume Jessica’s sanity, his needful hands soon seeking out the forbidden curves of her body with a desire so powerful that it thrilled her.

His will to conquer was so much stronger than her will to resist. him, her passions and body no longer capable of denying her boy.

**3**

Her only choice now was surrender.

When her own son had stood like a young invading commander inside the broken-down gates of her besieged heart issuing steely-eyed orders to never see that man again, Jessica Jordan knew her own battle was hopelessly lost, that there was no other recourse but to offer her full and unconditional surrender to this conquering hero.

When his long and lean body leaned in to claim the prize of her lips, she had no choice but to pledge her unspoken pact to his cause, to surrender to his hungry kiss and end the heart-rending battle she’d waged with morality over these past nine months, her own womanly body now forfeited as the spoils of that war.

Since the afternoon when she’d caught Harold in her lingerie drawer, the lonely widow was no longer haunted by the ghost of her late husband, but instead by the everyday presence of Martin Jordan’s second son. Harold had become ‘Hal’ after that day, and Hal had haunted her very thoughts, the memory of his thick manhood in her hands soon haunting her waking dreams, making the sleepless Jessica itch for relief between her legs until her probing fingers wrote out her surrender in hot greasy ink across the full and flushed silent lips between her legs.

Lips that would call out his name if they could, even if her own lips dare not.

But none of those small battles mattered anymore.

She’d lost the war.

He’d won her.

Surrender came with moans of uncaged relief as Hal’s hands took hold of her liberated breasts, his thumbs twirling hardening nipples while his tongue flickered around her own like a devilish whirlwind, the war-ravaged blouse and bra soon falling to the kitchen floor to oblige this victorious young hero with full and unfettered access to her fertile hills.

His ravenous mouth soon sought out the valley of her stretched neck, his deep and passionate kisses hitting just the right spots to send mind-numbing jolts of electricity into an overwhelmed brain like lightning strikes striking the ocean, his lean body shifting against her shores like a ship’s hull charting a course to her soul.

Hal’s mouth soon discovered her twin islands of desire, hardened nipples jutting up from the raging seas of her heaving breasts, pink and ripened shores ready to offer this young conqueror a different kind of succor than they had fourteen long years ago, her aching mommy-breasts eager to satisfy his new hunger.

Outside, the humid night refused to surrender the heat of the day, the cold and ancient claws of Nyx hovering above the city like the hands of a grandmother over a dying firepit. The night’s chill was finally covered the latent heat of Coast City like an angry blanket on a cage, the unfurling mantle of its thunder clouds darkening the skies above like a black carpet. The storm cells of lust raging within Jessica Jordan’s heart soon gave the growing storm its beacon, the first flashes of lightning channeled by her own uncontrollable passion reaching up to the skies.

The angry roiling of thunder became the rumbling chorus of trembling desire echoing deep within her core, long legs wrapping greedily around Hal’s waist to guide her young sailor back to the safety of her harbour, her breathless voice carried across the wind to give his passion-ravaged vessel a single direction…

“ _Bedroom_.”

With the whirling compass of their unbridled lust now registering a single point, they made their way to the bedroom in a cyclone of wet kisses, leaving only a trail of discarded clothing in their teetering wake, two bodies twisting in a dance of passion until moored by conjoining arms against walls, brief flashes of lightning revealing the way ahead as rumbling peels of thunder charged the very air around them, the ebb and flow of this dark sea carrying two lost souls to sin and deliverance.

Jessica Jordan was fully naked by the time she toppled backwards onto her awaiting bed, her son instantly following her down, his own hips soon marooned between her spreading legs like a sailor washed ashore by this lustful storm. Their mouths instantly found one another again to offer shelter from the storm, her hands burying themselves in Hal’s thick hair before losing herself in the sensation of his young body shifting atop hers, his own hands squaring himself along her spreading hips until she felt his hot masthead seeking entry into her relegated harbour.

The thought that her drydock may not be deep enough for her son’s war galleon when his less-than-endowed father had captained a canoe suddenly occurred to Jessica Jordan. That thought crystallized immediately into a gasp of shock when Hal’s fleshy naval ram parted the pink seas of her forgotten port like Moses wielding a harpoon.

That overwhelmed gasp made her young lover suddenly pause; his tip poised to cleft her salty reefs once more but his rudder quickly reigned in. Even through the night’s darkness, she could still see the concern in those big brown eyes looking down at her, watching her every expression with baited breath as she gathered her own in a series of labored gasps.

“I’m fine, baby… It’s just… You’re just… _really_ big.”

With a deep sigh and her acknowledging nod, Hal continued tentatively, tempering his initial enthusiasm with a newfound gentleness, allowing his tip to savour the incredible warmth and tightness of every fractional inch of his mother’s shallow port. She was amazingly tight, each moist fold clinging to his length like an affectionate child, each gentle thrust across her sacred canvas allowing his tip to dip itself into passion’s ink, to inscribe his claim across the shuddering walls of her relinquished vagina with a fleshy quill.

For Jessica Jordan, memories of her first time in the back of Martin’s car flooded her lightning-rod senses like lost nostalgia, the pain and pleasure of losing her virginity rising from the dusty ashes of recollection, opening like a phoenix’s bright wings once more as the heated flames of passion revealed her sexual past.

The zeitgeist of losing her virginity haunted the caverns of her womb, with Hal’s steady motion reminding her so much of his father, his thick ridge now stroking that lovely spot just inside her that she found so satisfying, that warm fullness that dispelled her feelings of emptiness, the stroke which would soon make her as moist as the first sheeting drops of rain pelting against the roof of their home.

Even the summer’s rain reminded Jessica of her first time, the night when Martin had driven her home from the football game only to detour into lover’s lane, the steady stream of a downpour funneling down against the car’s steamy back windows as he finally pushed all five inches inside of her.

The ghosts of nostalgia were quickly dispelled when the son easily pushed past that point, past the furthest reaches previously known to man which his own father had traversed. With each new exploratory thrust, Hal’s larger and more seaworthy vessel boldly sailed into her virgin territory while Jessica’s wide blue eyes became awash with discoveries of her own, her body experiencing sensations she’d never felt before as her son laid claim to the deepest, undiscovered parts of her.

The siren channels of her cervix proved no match for this brown-eyed commander, his hips barely easing back on the throttle to navigate his thick bow against the ridged strait before pushing it into the wide-open waters of her uterus. With that single thrust, the sugar walls of her resistance crumbled beneath his magnificent manhood, the mounting pressure inside her which Hal had been steadily priming with his ramrod suddenly letting go like a water cannon, a gushing load of hot juices erupting from between her legs like a burst water pipe.

Oh God… Oh Fuck!

She’d never cum like this before! Never this hard! Never this intense!

And it wouldn’t stop! Wave after wave of salty surrender was pouring out of her cock-primed pussy with every thrust, a line of pleasurable pops going off like a string of firecrackers across her entire nervous system until it had Jessica wailing like some bleary-eyed banshee.

It was a life-changing orgasm, the kind where the semblance of control is ripped away like a magician’s tablecloth to reveal the doormat beneath, the kind where she would now allow her teen lover do _anything_ he wanted _,_ if only to experience this magical pleasure again.

It was falling down the rabbit hole of love into the wonderland of submission beyond.

Jessica shrieked out prayers of thanks to whatever gods were listening until her son finally took her in earnest, her massive orgasm throwing the floodgates to her soul wide open, her screams begging Hal to finish off her on-the-ropes pussy, begging for the creamy finishing move of his masterful rod.

Angling his hips upwards, Hal’s strong hands grabbed the sheets beside her head, the crook behind her knees automatically wrapping around his straightened elbows as he fucked her at a blistering pace, angling his extended penis into her juicy crotch until she thought she might break in half, until her blinking blue eyes slowly rolled back up into her head and her lolling tongue hung across her panting smile like a bitch in heat moaning in a language she didn’t understand.

The boy’s relentless thrusts were coming faster than her ability to collect her scattered thoughts, her senses continuously stampeded by the deepest pleasure she’d ever known, until her reason had been beaten into a pulp of pure sensuality.

Jessica was barely conscious when she had her second massive gushing orgasm that launched straight upwards like a geyser, the hot stream of her erupting love soon trickling down Hal’s tensing balls as they prepared to fire the decisive blow. With his wet portside now christened by her popped-cork wine, Hal was suddenly battling the need to dislodge himself from this wonderfully tight dock _before_ his own release happened.

As his churning ship was reluctantly being pulled from her lush tropical port, his mother’s pleading words suddenly brought him back inside, her desperate pleas coaxing him back into the plot like a dime store lover’s broken goodbye, his explosive carbon rod achieving critical mass as it was plunged deep into her heavy water coil, jettisoning its crew of mutinous semen into the safe harbour of her uterus like a sanctuary.

“ _Oh God…_ _Cum in Mommy, baby_ … C _um inside Mommy!_ ”

**4**

It was nothing more than pure luck that Jessica Jordan woke up twenty minutes before Jack was scheduled to arrive back home from his nightshift, her blue eyes suddenly snapping wide open while performing the mental calculations of exactly how many days had passed since her last period…

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks on Thursday. She should be fine. Her next period couldn’t be more than five or six days away which meant her ovulation window should be closed down like a hot roulette table after the wheel has been spun.

It had fucking well better be.

Christ, she still couldn’t believe that she’d actually done it, that she’d not only had sex with Hal but actually begged him to cum inside her, taking full leave of her senses if only because it was the best and most legendary fucking she’d ever had.

She must have still been senseless because she wanted to do it again, to crawl on top of that long and lean body sleeping beside her, to mount the big underaged cock that was barely covered by the damp bedsheets which she’d made a goddamned wet mess of last night.

The thought that she’d certainly never done that to a bedsheet with his father made the mother of three grin even more, realizing her son had taken her to sensual new places she hadn’t dreamed existed…

But if she didn’t clean up this mess soon, the cops might be taking her places as well. Places where she wouldn’t be able to see her boys anymore. Bad places.

The panicking Jessica Jordan managed to corral her half-asleep young lothario back into his own bedroom before the sun peaked across the eastern horizon, with the carefree Hal happily dozing off as soon as his head hit his pillow, leaving his worried bath-robed accomplice of the night before alone to gather up the evidence, tossing clothes and bedsheets straight into the washing machine on a hot cycle.

Half a bottle of air freshener managed to mask the rest of the musty odor at the scene of the crime, racing against the clock when she heard her own car pulling up the drive, deciding to quickly step into a cold shower rather than risk meeting Jack directly. Jessica quickly calculated that a fifteen-minute shower should give her eldest boy enough time to have something to eat before he went into his room, put on the headphones and then slept until late in the afternoon, likely around the same time Jim was scheduled to return home from his camp.

That would give her enough time to have a serious chat with Hal.

As she was about to twist the shower knob to wash away her sins, Jessica heard Jack’s surprised voice from the kitchen only seconds after he opened the door.

“What the fuck?”

_Oh shit, she’d forgotten about the switchblade, the pan, and the knife!_

**5**

He forced the truth out of her.

At Jack’s insistence, she had to confess how her drunken boss had attempted to rape her, how he’d ripped off her blouse and bra before an awoken Hal had screamed at him to let her go. About how the middle-aged man had pulled a switchblade on his younger brother only to have his arm broken by Hal swinging the cast iron pan to protect them, about how the angry Carson had fired her on the spot.

Of course, she didn’t tell Jack about what had happened _after_ the assault, about how his little brother had screwed her more-than-willing brains out in her bedroom before popping his potent teenaged cherry deep inside her mothballed ovaries.

_But don’t worry, son… That one was purely consensual… A family affair… Let’s just hope you don’t get a brother/nephew from it._

Fortunately, Jessica Jordan wasn’t pregnant, but she saw something born in Jack that day. His entire purpose was consumed by a powerful conviction to set right the wrongs done against his mother, to seek justice for her no matter the cost.

Later that morning, because he refused to let it go, they contacted the police and the investigation was begun.

In the end, Carson Manella avoided jail time, but thanks to Jack’s dogged determination and an unshakable resolve to see justice carried out in his mother’s name, the Manella family finally broke down and decided it would be best if Carson packed up his family and moved out of state.

They secured a bookkeeping position for him at his uncle’s heavy construction firm in Central City, half a country away from Jessica Jordan and her family.

The second concession the Manella family made was that Jessica would be awarded her old position with backpay. They admitted things may have gotten a little out of hand with Carson, but it seemed like Jessica’s eldest boy was pushing for this to go to court more than she was.

Surely she didn’t want this misunderstanding to sully either of their family names in the courts. Besides, young Jack wouldn’t be the one standing in front of a jury while an overpaid lawyer painted his mother as a lonely widow inviting her drunken boss into her home, suggesting she’d leaned over the kitchen counter while hiking up her skirt like a whore in heat, begging the hardly sober Carson to make her feel like a woman again.

And maybe her naïve second boy had walked in on them mid-act and mistook his mother’s screams of ecstasy for pain, their passionate lovemaking for an assault. That’s why he’d grabbed the frying pan and swung it like a madman, breaking Carson’s right arm in the process.

With the investigation dragging on for more than three months now, three long months where she’d been a stay-at-home mother without a paycheque, wouldn’t she be happier just accepting their offer of her old job with backpay, even if her oldest was still pushing for criminal charges to be laid?

It was when her court-appointed prosecutor gently suggested that a medical examination ‘down there’ could provide conclusive evidence that Jessica hadn’t been sexually active in years that Jessica’s greatest fear was suddenly realized…

That more than just criminal charges had been laid that night.

She took the deal.

It was easy enough to let Jack down easy by showing him how the electricity was only days away from being turned off, how his extra shifts were affecting his studies and that he needed his marks higher if he ever wanted to attend law school.

And since Carson was now in Central City, she didn’t need to worry about him anymore, only about putting food on the table for her three boys. Good jobs were tough enough to come by, but they’d be impossible to come by after the bank foreclosed and they were out on the street. And the court case was still months away.

So when Jessica signed off on the out-of-court settlement papers and was handed a lovely cheque with five figures which would cover _all_ her costs and then some, she made sure to put a little aside for Jack’s education and to celebrate with her family by having a real Sunday dinner again, complete with every food-laden dish she could squeeze onto her festive dining room table, even though it Thanksgiving was still seven weeks away.

She also made sure to pick up a box of extra-large rubbers for Hal at the pharmacy. Hell, if she was going to celebrate this windfall after three long months of abstinence, she might as well do it properly.


End file.
